Someone to come home to

Last night, as I prepared my third home made meal in a week, I realized exactly what it is that I love most about my apartment. Yes, I love the freedom. And of course I love the fitness center and the indoor pool. But more than anything else, I love that I have someone to come home to.

I know it is cheesy, romantic and maybe even a bit pathetic. But more than anything else, living with B makes me happy. Maybe I would love the freedom more if I hadn't already lived alone for two years. Trust me though, it gets pretty depressing when you ask for a steak at the meat counter and when the guy asks how many you want, you have to reply, "just one." Especially when I love to cook.

Fortunately for B, living together means that he gets to be my guinea pig for new recipes. I cooked for myself when I lived alone, but between not wanting to divide recipes to feed one and my insane schedule, I ended up eating a lot of pasta and quick meals.

So far this week, we have had pork chops with fennel and pancetta, home made chicken and dumplings and oven fried fish. I will try and get around to posting the recipes, although they can all be found in my Bible, aka the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. I have been really happy with how all the meals have come out, plus I think I am really getting over my fear of cooking any meat other than steak! Don't ask, I haven't been able to logically explain it to anyone.

It goes beyond cooking though. There is something really comforting about having someone else around, even if we're not doing something together. There has been more than one night so far that B will be watching something on TV while I am on the other end of the futon reading (currently Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix). I am sure since B just bought Call of Duty and some Tony Hawk game for the Playstation those nights will become more frequent.

I am also not denying that we have had a few spats. More often than not, these are over the dog who still needs some work on manners and snores louder than a trucker. Or the really stupid things, like which way the toilet paper should face or how to properly use a tube of toothpaste (yes, it is a pet peeve of mine). But through everything, there is really nowhere else I would rather be than curled up in front of our fireplace with B.

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